When the world around her sleeps,
She wakes herself up from her dreams,
Because she has a duty and there she needs to be.
She wakes up and wakes up that need,
The purpose that probably keeps her on her feet.
It’s 3 A.M and she is all alone, on that filthy road,
Picking up cans and bottles that men and women left in the day broad.
It’s 3 AM and she is in her lightning speed,
Checking every nook and corner of the street.
It’s 3 AM and she is as free as I wish I could be.
And then I fondly realize, "No, She is not."
She is just like me, and the rest of the population
Who still have their lights on.
The blue lights of the costly cell phones,
The yellow ones of the table lamps,
The white ones too, of those dilated eyes,
Worrying when their child will be home....!
She is not free, just like you and me,
Her responsibilities are different, mine is like mine,
But she is working, keeping her hopes alive.
I am worried, sleep eludes me tonight,
Pacing here and there, the balcony seems out of space tonight.
I tell my friend whom I have been forcing to stay awake,
"She is out now, all alone, on those roads,
What if bad things happen to her?"
Spontaneously, a prayer comes out, hope it never happens,
Protect her lord, will You please?
And I tell him again, "How we never value our lives,
How grateful we should be this is a fulfilling life,
Yet we whine about the littlest things we miss."
It’s 3 AM and she is out now!
Its 3 AM and she is out now..!
It’s 3 AM and she is out now...!
The only sound I hear is of those clinking bottles
That she keeps in her big white sack,
She picks them up and moves on to the next gully.
It’s 3 A.M, and she is out working for her daily meal.
I come in, throw myself onto the bed, close my eyes, and try to sleep.
But how could I ? She is out there,
And I got a good story to pen about
to only later show it to people.
And they will be nice about it,
Oh, nicely written, speaks volumes, couldn’t have expressed better...!
And then the chapter will close, forever,
And this is the way it is.
Another paper, another poem;
Another day, another story.
But in my mind, it doesn't,
It’s 3 A.M and she is out now on her daily routine...!